“How are your wounds?”

“My foot is very stiff and sore, but if you will let me hold your arm, I can hop along.”

“Can you, my crippled snow-bird?  Suppose I have a different use for my strong arms?”

He lifted her very gently, but apparently without effort, and carried her to the window.

“Go down, Esau, set the torch in the ground, and hold the ladder,—­press it hard against the wall.  I am coming down backward,—­and if I should miss a round, you must be ready to help me.  Come, Hero, jump out first and clear the way.  Steady now, Esau.”

Placing his charge on the broad sill, Mr. Lindsay stepped out, established himself securely on the ladder, and, drawing the girl to the ledge, took her firmly in his arms, balancing himself with some difficulty as he did so.

“Now say your prayers.  Clasp your hands tight around my neck, and shut your eyes.”

His chin rested upon her forehead, as she clung closely about his neck, and they commenced the perilous descent.

Once he wavered, almost tottered, but recovered himself, and from the fierce beating of his heart and the laboured sound of his deep breathing she knew that it cost him great physical exertion; but at last his close strain relaxed, he reached the ground safely and stood resting a moment, while a sigh of relief escaped him.

“Esau, put the end of the torch sideways in Hero’s mouth,—­mind, so that it will not burn him; and lay the cushion on the plank.  No!—­that is wrong.  Turn the torch the other way, so that as he walks, the wind will blow the flame in the opposite direction, away from his face.  Take it, Hero!  That’s a noble fellow!  Now home, Hero.”

When the cushion had been adjusted on the broad plank brought for the purpose, Mr. Lindsay laid Regina upon it, threw a blanket over her, and, bidding the sexton take one end of the plank, he lifted the other, and they began the march.

“Not that way, Hero, although it is the nearest.  Truly the ’longest way round is the shortest way’ home this time; for we could not twist about among the graves, and must go down the avenue, though it is somewhat obstructed by fallen boughs.  Come here, Hero, and walk ahead of us.  Now, Regina, you can shut your eyes and imagine you are riding in a palankeen, as the Hindustanee ladies do when they go out for fresh air.  The motion is exactly the same, as you will find some day when you come to Rohilcund or Oude, to see Padre Sahib—­Lindsay.  You shall then have a new dooley all curtained close with rose-coloured silk; but I can’t promise that the riding will prove any more easy than this cushioned plank.”

What a stab seemed each word, bringing back all the bitter suffering his departure would cause,—­the reviving the grief, from which the storm had temporarily diverted her thoughts.

“You are not going to-night?  You will not try to start, after this dreadful storm?” she said, in an unsteady voice.